Sep 16, 20153 min
Updated: Jul 2, 2020
I think many of you will agree that there is something refreshingly different about this blog. I’ve really connected with people and the amount of “likes” I’ve been receiving each week has provided me with a clear mandate to keep up the good work.
Not everybody’s been on board though: one critic even suggested that I had peaked with “Eric Rushton: A Week in the Life” and that support has been dwindling ever since. They said that my fan base is deteriorating like a banana that’s been left to rot in a rarely visited fruit bowl. To which I replied: “Stop being such a negative cunt! Also can you stop going on about the bananas, Mum? It’s your fault for buying so many – I’ll eat them when I’ve got time. Now can you make me a cup of tea please?”
Anyway, I did a gig on Thursday in Cradley Heath. I was feeling fairly lethargic that day so I wanted to listen to some music on the way up there to get myself pumped; but then I realised that the only song I have on my phone is John Cena’s WWE intro music and that playing it on repeat gets a bit repetitive. Instead I started listening to Bill Burr’s podcast, which I found bare more inspiring than the John Cena song as he got onto this whole career advice bit. He started talking about following his dream of being a stand up and it really motivated me to go do some comedy. I’ve listened to it about 5 times since because I don’t really have much of a life. Here it is if you’re interested: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xhikm8uFfe8
The gig was reasonably okay, but things took a turn for the worst on the way home. The train I was on had to stop indefinitely because there had been a fatality down the line, meaning I was going to miss my next train and I was stuck. I wasn’t coping with the drama of the hold-up; I’m not built for it, I can barely handle it when dinner gets delayed. It also felt as if the outside world was completely oblivious to my plight. Here I was, displaced from my home, on a train, fleeing the warzone that is open mic comedy, yet no one seemed to be concerned. Not only that, my fellow stranded passengers and I were subjected to the totally dehumanising process of having our tickets checked, as if we were just a bunch of chancers. Although it turns out the train manager used that information to call taxis for everybody, which was pretty sick as it meant everything turned out alright. The whole thing was a bit of an ordeal though and when I got home I drank some hot chocolate and cried for a bit. It was unforgettable, that’s why I remember it.
I didn’t really do much on Friday. It was an anxiety-filled day as I was coping with the double whammy of recovering from the whole train thing while simultaneously feeling nervous about the Labour leadership results that were coming the next day. I was hoping Jeremy Corbyn would win, and although it was looking almost certain that he was going to, I was scared things would inexplicably fall apart. It reminded me of the nerves I had before A-level results day, just imagining different ways things could go wrong – I was worried Jeremy might’ve fucked up by forgetting to put his candidate number on the ballot paper.
He got elected though, which was a big relief. This inevitably means he’s going to face an onslaught of abuse from the media. For example, he’s already been criticised for the supposed chaos surrounding his shadow cabinet selection. I thought he did quite well though, I would be awful at putting a shadow cabinet together – I can barely even put a Tesco £3 meal deal together. I’m too indecisive, I can spend hours trying to choose between two pasta pots which both purport to be unique and different, but, ultimately, offer the same nutritional austerity. I panic when I have to make decisions as well; my shadow cabinet would end up consisting of John McDonnell, Diane Abbott and a bottle of Oasis.
I’ve pretty much been inside for most of this week and on Monday no one was in so I used the opportunity to dance to Bulletproof by La Roux. It was amazing and in that moment I felt so free and unencumbered. I started thinking about how I wished I could feel that free all the time, and that I wasn’t burdened with being anxious about everything. Thinking about this made me feel sad but then I remembered that time David Cameron said he supported West Ham when he meant Villa and I felt alright again.
Anyway, that’s about it.
Cya x
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